


to all that's inexplicable

by ningningbin



Series: lovers of the seasons [1]
Category: ENHYPEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Panic Attacks, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind spoilers, i wrote this in three days so there's bound to be mistakes galore, idk how to tag this, instead of d wording you lose colors instead, neither of them seem to know how to deal with pain, sunoo has ocd, sunoo seems selfish but it's just his stream of consciousness and he's in a lot of pain, this is a comfort fic i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ningningbin/pseuds/ningningbin
Summary: There must be a word that explains how sometimes, three steps feel just like three steps—a distance you can close in a split second when the train lurches and you bump into the stranger next to you.Other times, three steps feel like an eternity's worth of a journey, when you're standing in the doorway of a hospital room and someone you used to call your soulmate lies on the bed, fistful of dying petals in hand.Sunoo loves Sunghoon still, just not enough to save him.
Relationships: Kim Sunoo/Park Sunghoon
Series: lovers of the seasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143557
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66





	to all that's inexplicable

**Author's Note:**

> sunoo would hate the title
> 
> anyway! :] i tried to re-read this as much as i could to seek out the mistakes but as usual, it's cringy to read my own writing so there might still be some grammar mistakes in here!!
> 
> also, while this is written in 3rd pov, it's all a stream of sunoo's consciousness, and he's really quite a character so you'll see conflicting sentences all in the same sequence cause he's always thinking, and his thoughts are always racing a thousand miles an hour.
> 
> this whole fic is up for interpretation! i hope you enjoy it, and happy reading~

_**How much is enough?** _

_**And if there is a definite answer,** _

_**Would I have that much of myself to give** _ **?**

_**And if I do,** _

_**How much of myself would be left?** _

**Sunoo**

**1st of April, 2021**

There's not much you can say to someone whom you've taken so much from, Sunoo realizes. And he ponders this while he stands outside the slab of gray door that separates his world and Sunghoon's. As soon as he steps foot inside, he's going to be entering a world where colors seep from surfaces like you're watching a reverse timelapse of ink bleeding into paper, slowly but surely. Except, the change is so slow and the veins twist and lengthen so sluggishly that you'd never be able to tell they're even crawling by. But they are. Sunoo doesn't know how that feels, but he could always ask Sunghoon.

Who's losing his colors because of him.

If Sunoo could get his mouth to stop clamming up, he'd be able to ask Sunghoon how red changes from, well, red, to a more subdued shade of crimson overnight. It must be scary, to drift asleep knowing that you'd open your eyes to a whole different color palette next, each duller and less vibrant than the last.

He didn't get flowers today—he'd made that mistake one time, and Mrs. Park had told him after that, Sunghoon had a panic attack as soon as he'd left. Besides, Sunghoon doesn't need more of those, not when he's fostering the ones that are carving a home out of his lungs, blooming buds between his alveoli, creeping vines wrapping around his collapsing respiratory tracts.

He doesn't wear anything that isn't black or white anymore, either. He doesn't want Sunghoon to reach forward and take the fabric between his fingers and look into his eyes and ask Sunoo what color he sees.

He doesn't want to make this harder than it already is, and as much as Sunoo doesn't want to admit it, it's all for the most selfish of reasons.

Sometimes he wishes they never met.

The door slides open before he can turn around and leave, and Sunoo finds himself faced with a distraught looking Mrs. Park, whose lips are slowly parting in surprise, her knuckles whitening as her grip around the empty pitcher tightens. In anger, in desperation, Sunoo doesn't know. It's okay, sometimes he wakes up unsure if he should hate himself, or be angry at himself for the day either. It seems like she was about to walk out to refill some water for her son, and Sunoo screams internally. If only he'd left sooner—

It really does feel like the universe is launching every missile it has against him, or maybe it's just karma snaking up on him to balance him out for all the bad things he's done to other people.

Sunoo racks his brain for something to say, and thankfully, before he can blurt out anything idiotic, the tired woman pushes the door gently into place behind her, motioning for them to move elsewhere so Sunghoon can't overhear the conversation about to take place, one that's bound to be pointless.

He follows her blindly.

"Sunoo," she says in greeting, and he bows out of politeness.

_It's your turn to say something,_ his brain reminds him, and his fingers dance at his sides.

"How is he?" he asks, though he internally berates himself for asking something so... so like the movies they play in late-night theaters for couples who love subjecting themselves to a two-hour sobfest. He used to frequent those theaters with Sunghoon himself, and now he can't even bear to draw close to all the places stained and tainted with memories of them meeting, falling in love, being in love, and then—

It was a struggle to get on the train that brought him here today, and Sunoo had to rush out some stops to empty the contents of his stomach into the filthy subway toilets too many times.

It isn't enough, not by a long shot, to make up for what he's putting Sunghoon through right now.

She answers haltingly, "He's, well, coping."

Out of habit, Sunoo takes his right earlobe between his fingers and squeezes it with his thumb and middle finger. "That's good to hear."

"Sunoo, you know, just for Sunghoon's sake can you _try—"_

"I'm here now, aren't I?" he talks over he bluntly. He knows it's rude, and she reserves every right to be furious at him right now, but Sunoo's hurting too. He can't understand _why_ this has to happen, and why it's happening. If the Universe has the answers to everything, why isn't there one behind his current predicament? He's fucking frustrated and exhausted beyond belief and he's still managed to arrive here today and no one _sees_ , that even if his suffering doesn't even come close to Sunghoon's, it's still there. And it hurts just as much.

Mrs. Park purses her lips together and nods to herself. "I'll leave you two to talk, then," she relents, sparing Sunoo her usual words today.

She leaves, and now it's _really_ just the two of them.

Before he can question his choice, Sunoo applies the slightest bit of pressure to his fingertips and slides the door open, slowly so he still has some time to wrap up all the conversations the two of them are having in his head. It opens wide enough and he inches himself through, and there Sunghoon is, backlit by the sunlight pouring through, staring at a fistful of blood-soaked petals in his fist. Even from all the way over here, Sunoo can see the lines of his fingers trembling.

"Ma—"

Sunoo wants to say hi.

But just like all the other things that happened to them over the past two months, or god knows how long, Sunoo can't explain why it just won't come out.

"I'm glad it's you," Sunghoon smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

The words make Sunoo's heart jump, even if he knows what the boy means. He's just glad that his mother hadn't been the one to witness them flying out his mouth again. Sunoo allows himself a moment to breathe before he walks over to Sunghoon and pulls out the wastebin just under his bed. He holds it up as Sunghoon disposes of the darned traces of the flowers in his system and tears his eyes away from the sight of all the blood inside. He just hasn't been here for three days, how has it gotten this bad already?

"How are you feeling?" he starts.

"That's a shit question, sunshine," the boy replies gently, the nickname slipping out so naturally because that's his bad habit, too, but his voice is rough around the edges from all the hacking.

Sunoo offers him a weak smile as he reaches for one of the folded towels on the side table and wets it a little so he can help Sunghoon wipe down his hand. "It _was_ pretty insensitive, wasn't it?"

"I can do this much myself, Sunoo," the older boy insists.

"But this is all I can do, so will you let me?"

No response arrives, and Sunoo's glad. It isn't easy to speak, and every joke he makes lands flat, every reply more ingenuine than the last. It's a strange feeling to hold Sunghoon's hand like this, like it's some kind of item on display. Like a mannequin's hand. But he gets the blood out of every crevice and he takes his time doing so, for the sake of learning all the things about Sunghoon he's somehow never noticed before.

When you're no longer in love with someone the way you used to be, their hands are a lot less soft. You feel the ridges of their fingerpads, the whorls of their callouses, all the little details that don't fit perfectly into the slots of your fingers.

"What's the activity on the list today?" Sunghoon asks tentatively.

"I don't know," he admits with a sigh. "I was hoping there'd be something you want to do in particular."

"There is," Sunghoon confesses with a sheepish smile. He folds his hands back together right on his stomach the moment Sunoo moves away. "Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"Your mother—"

"I'll ask her to leave. Her shift starts soon anyway..."

They sit in silence until Mrs. Park finally returns, and without even having to say anything, she understands. She leaves, bag slung over her shoulder after she presses a gentle kiss to the crown of her son's head, but even as her footsteps concede and diminish into the general din of hospital chaos, Sunoo knows she keeps looking back. Like something might happen to Sunghoon the minute she's really gone.

Sunoo pours a glass of water for Sunghoon, only to have it pushed away.

"It hurts to drink."

"Still." But Sunghoon's adamant and way too stubborn for his own good. He's already flipping through their selection of films on the flat-screen across his bed, so Sunoo decides to drop it. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Are you feeling ' _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'_?"

That one's their favorite.

Sunoo's chapped lips split a little when he let the smile grow on his face. He pushes his chair into place so he can sit right next to Sunghoon.

He presses play.

_**23rd of July, 2018**_

It's a good day because it's the twenty-third.

Sunoo likes his threes. And it's July, the seventh month, so that's another three when you subtract seven from ten. From twenty-eighteen, _eighteen_ is divisible by three. So in Sunoo's book, today would probably be one of the best days in his life. Really, how often do you strike a triple three with the date? It feels as great as hitting jackpot, or, how he _imagines_ it would feel anyway, considering he's only fifteen and knows nothing about gambling and casino games.

So he tries his hardest to stay positive, even when he gets a call from his dad as soon as he steps out of school after a long day and hears that the old family car has broken down and requires fixing. It's fine, he'd shrugged it off. Taking the train isn't a big deal—he's _fifteen_ , and using public transport _shouldn't_ be an issue.

Until he timidly walks into the belly of the metal beast and the screeching, the tightly packed herds of bodies, the impassive faces of people around him—they all swarm at him like a black mist of flies he can't swat away. He holds his breath for as long as he can, and only exhales and inhales when he feels like he absolutely _needs_ to.

He needs to get off at the next stop. He _has_ to. And he'll wait it out till a train with considerably fewer people arrives and he can sit in silence and dwell in solitude and count to three over, and over, and over again until it feels right.

But until then, he's stuck here. His fingers wildly reach above to find purchase on the straphangers and he tries to take his mind off of the greasy feel rubbing off onto his palm.

He looks around to see if anyone's freaking out like he is.

No one is.

There's an elderly couple seated in the corner whispering to each other in hushed voices as they pore over the entertainment section of the daily newspaper. A group of students in uniform, like he is, huddle near the automatic doors, too immersed in whatever's on their phones to pay any heed to their surroundings. No one thinks there's anything wrong with the ride, but with how it sways and screams every time they turn a corner, Sunoo's heart keeps sinking further into his stomach.

He hears the shrill shriek that pierces his eardrums before he feels the train coming to a sudden pause on its tracks. The alarm rises in his throat like bile but he swallows the shout, even if he couldn't stop his hold on the strap from slipping.

_One, two, three—_

Exactly three steps are taken before he slams into the stranger next to him, shoulder first, and then his face. The stranger is quick enough to evade the brunt of his fall, so Sunoo's eyes are still open wide as he mentally prepares himself to lose a tooth or two—until a hand catches on the hem of his shirt and pulls him back up. His knees buckle and he loses his balance, though, so he still ends up falling backwards but at least his ass has saved him the pain of breaking his perfect set of teeth.

"Oh, shit, sorry—"

The guy who'd attempted to help offers him a hand that he cautiously accepts but as soon as Sunoo's back on his feet, he's reeling back like a scared puppy. He's getting all sorts of looks from the people in the same coach but it doesn't matter, not when he's planning to get off at the next stop anyway.

"Are you okay?"

Sunoo averts his eyes and frowns. "I'm fine, it's nothing to worry about. What the hell is up with this thing anyway..."

"Ah, I take it you don't use public transport often?" Sunoo shakes his head. "If you happen to get on one of the older trains, this happens quite a lot actually."

"How do you tell, though?"

For some reason, the guy's eyes light up like Sunoo's just asked the best question ever. It's strange how someone can get this excited over the notion of explaining to a complete stranger what the differences between new and old trains are. He steps round to Sunoo's back and points, over the latter's shoulder, at what, Sunoo can't be too sure. There's too much happening as is, so much so that Sunoo's eyes can't land anywhere comfortably besides the ceiling, where a series of flickering lamps run along the center.

"There, the color of the seats."

Sunoo follows the general direction where the boy is pointing to. They're just... _seats._

"Do you see?"

"They're just blue and red," Sunoo notes.

" _No._ Well, yes, but see, they're blues and reds that are very faded. You can tell they've been there for ages."

This is guy is nuts, Sunoo just knows.

"And you see, the map over the doors? They don't have flickering little LED lights that tell you which stop you're heading to next. The straphangers we're using now, too. They're worn and fuzzy and made of fabric. The ones on the new trains are made of a different material."

_This guy is nuts,_ and Sunoo can't believe he's being soothed by a crazy stranger's presence at his back.

"Oh." And that's all he can say, cause _one,_ he's not great at making conversation. _Two,_ he really wants to get off at the next stop but now he's conflicted because this guy is admittedly making this painful experience a little more bearable. He searches for a third reason desperately, not wanting his mental list to land on an even number.

He turns back slowly so he doesn't trip and meets the stranger's smiling eyes.

Oh.

_Three,_ this guy is pretty cute.

He hates that _that's_ one of the first things he notices but it's true. Sunoo's gaze falls down to the nametag sewn over his right pocket that reads, 'Park Sunghoon'.

"Yes?" A smirk has now replaced the kind smile the guy had worn earlier, as if he could read Sunoo's thoughts.

His cheeks pink even as he willed them not to. His dumb ass had read it aloud when he didn't mean to. But now that he has, well, what the hell can he do—"I'm Sunoo."

"Hi, Sunoo."

Sunoo doesn't know what it is, but something to the way Sunghoon's tongue had rolled around the letters of his name made it sound special, so beautiful that he wants to hear it coming from his lips again and again and again. _Sunoo, Sunoo... Sunoo._ It plays in his mind for the rest of the day, and makes him smile while he's doing even the most trivial of tasks like wiping down his desk before he studies, or when he's helping his mother with the dishes.

He doesn't know that there'd come a day when he wishes Sunghoon would just stop fucking calling him.

**1st of April, 2021**

"Sunoo."

He blinks back into the present, his eyes stinging from being kept open for too long. As soon as he lets them flutter open once more, tears well up and he rubs them off on the sleeve of his sweater. On the screen, the movie has barely started, but they've watched this so many times before he's got the whole script memorized now—he doesn't have to worry about being quizzed on it.

"Sunoo, is something wrong?" Sunghoon asks.

He turns to the older boy and smiles. "Nope. It's just a sad ending, is all."

"Never knew you got so emotional over movies."

"What are you talking about? I cry every time."

"Not the last two times we watched this," Sunghoon recounts.

Sunoo doesn't reply. But he hopes that he doesn't cry this time, either, cause he wants to get rid of that fucking two. And because he doesn't want Sunghoon to see him breaking down over a love story between two people who find each other regardless. Two people who are determined to try and work things out again, even if there's a risk of history repeating itself.

That's strange.

Sunoo thinks a lot of things are strange, but nothing more peculiar than people who've gotten a preview of what's to come in the future and decide to go aboard the ride again, just to reach hell a second time. They think they're invincible together, that when they link fingers, they can withstand even the strongest of forces fate erects again them. That's bullshit. Sunoo knows that there are countless inexplicable things that can't be explained, but if there's one thing that's definite, it's the fate of two people who are bound to hurt each other, pistols drawn and knives pulled.

He decides to hate the number two even more.

If he'd known the shitstorm that would follow their first encounter, Sunoo would've never gotten on the train that day. _No,_ it doesn't matter _which_ day. He would've never given public transport a try at all. It would save them a lot of trouble...

Sunghoon wouldn't lose his colors.

And Sunoo wouldn't have had to question everything he knows about the Universe—because there's no reason to.

"What's your favorite part?" Sunghoon breaks the silence again. Another old habit he hasn't broken. It used to drive Sunoo mad because he's the type to be quiet all throughout the film till the experience comes to a conclusion, but now he's just glad he can take his eyes off the screen.

"The part where he's arrived at their first meeting and the house falls apart around them," he answers easily.

"Why? Because he says something they both remember later on?"

"No, I would've preferred if the movie ended there. It'd have made for a pretty satisfying ending, no?"

Sunghoon's brows furrow and meet in the middle as he whirls around to stare at Sunoo incredulosly. "Are you kidding? That'd be the shittiest ending of all shit endin—" He doesn't get to the end of his sentence because the _shit-filled_ Universe is cruel enough to rob him of the ability to get to the end of the last word. He starts coughing but he raises his fist a little too late and some of the blood splatters on his sheets, soaking into the pristine ivory immediately.

Thankfully, the glass of water he'd poured earlier still sits untouched on the side table and Sunoo lifts it up to Sunghoon's lips, coaxing the fluid into Sunghoon's system in the smallest amounts.

"Stop talking, your throat is too dry for that," Sunoo chides.

"Right," Sunghoon chokes in between gulps, wincing because it hurts. The walls of his throat are lined with lacerations and small cuts from the flurry of petals that escape them every day, and Sunoo can only imagine how painful that is. "Right, my throat's really dry these days..."

They sink into heavy silence and pretend that's the sole reason behind his chronic cough.

"I like the ending as it is," Sunghoon blurts out in the middle of the movie, somewhere at the one-hour mark.

"I hate it."

"It's beautiful, you just hate happiness," the older boy retorts.

"No, it doesn't make sense!" Sunoo argues, forbidding his eyes from straying to the waste bin under Sunghoon's bed. He keeps thinking about it, how it's all sticky with Sunghoon's blood. No wonder his complexion is so pale and he looks like he's lost too much weight. His skin stretches thin over his delicate wrist bones, and all Sunoo wants to do is take his hand and lead him to the outside world, beyond the only places he can see from the view in his drab hospital room.

Sunoo knows it's on purpose, because the doctors and experts seem to think that having the rooms be as devoid of color as much as possible would help ease the patients' transition into their new, monochrome world, but Sunghoon's always adored the brightest of hues and Sunoo wishes he could see them all before they fade.

He can't, because Sunghoon's lungs might collapse and stop working if they suddenly act up and he'd pass out on the spot if there aren't any medical professionals around.

Sunghoon has tried convincing him to commit jailbreak with him once. He'd almost been swayed, but he stopped himself at the last minute because he doesn't want to add another item to the list of things he's caused Sunghoon to lose, all because he couldn't stop loving Sunoo in time. Because he _can't_ stop loving Sunoo. It's an uncomfortable truth that hangs over them that neither would address, maybe because there's no easy way to approach it.

"Not everything has to make sense, you know," Sunghoon says quietly, so softly that it might've been the tone a mother would use to comfort her child. "Some things are better left unknown. And maybe some things just don't have explanations behind them, or science to back them up. Some things just... happen. And that's okay. "

"There's a reason for everything, like why we see the sun set eight minutes after it's already happened. Like—like how we know the theory behind the structure of an atom even if we can't just pluck one out the air and inspect it up close—"

"Like how the only way to know if we've met our soulmate is if they fall out of love with us first?"

Sunoo swallows past the lump of tears that's lodged permanently in his throat. "That's not fair and you know it."

"Why not, Sunoo? After all, in your world, there's an explanation for everything."

"It isn't the same thing," he tries to deny, as Clementine tells Joel to meet her in Montauk, right before he forgets everything about her.

"Well then, that's not _everything_ , is it?"

When he closes his eyes to shut out the pain, it only intensifies tenfold. He doesn't say anything because instinct raised and nursed over years of loving Park Sunghoon has taught him that even when he chooses to stay quiet, Sunghoon won't. And he makes that choice every time.

"Tell me, Sunoo, if the _Lacuna_ existed in our world, would you go?"

_To wipe your memories clean of me? Forget me and abandon me where you cornered me into?_

"It's not possible and it doesn't exist," he answers craftily.

"I said _if._ Hypothetically."

"Then _yes_ , Sunghoon. _Yes, I would go."_

"Why, it's that unbearable to remember ever knowing me?"

_Why do you keep asking questions I can't answer? Questions the fucking Universe wouldn't be able to answer?_

"No, because I'd try everything I possibly can to give you back your fucking world before we met!"

Sunghoon stares at him in silence. "No, that's not true," he tells Sunoo, dark eyes boring into the latter's like he can read him like an open book. Well, he's supposed to be able to—they're soulmates after all, even if the connection's been severed on his end. "That's the second reason, after the first, which is that you want to stop being in pain."

"Yeah," Sunoo smiles, and all of a sudden, he tastes the saltiness of the tears that run into his mouth. "Yeah. Because I'm the most selfish person you'll ever meet."

The older boy's gaze softens, chest rising with the effort of taking air in. "There's nothing wrong with being selfish. There's nothing wrong with wanting to protect yourself."

"I tried to protect you too."

"I know."

Nothing makes sense in the Universe, and that's a fear that weighs on Sunoo's caving shoulders. But he's not ready to admit that. _Not just yet._

Because there must be a reason why Sunghoon's hand snakes out his covers to find Sunoo's, and he just lets the older boy take it. There's a reason why Sunoo keeps taking, gorging himself on the spoils borne from sacrifices his soulmate keeps making, and there's another behind Sunghoon's giving nature.

"You haven't changed a bit, sunshine."

Sunoo realizes he's stuck on the two times he didn't cry when their favorite movie fades to black, and he wonders if this counts.

"Neither have you."

_**26th of August, 2018**_

Sunoo decides that it'll be a bad day even before it begins. He'd decided that it was just how the way things would be when he looked at the calendar the night before and realized that all the numbers were even.

But even if he'd shown up to school with his homework incomplete, it'd slipped his teacher's mind and he never got reprimanded for it. The girl who confessed last week has stopped tailing him around the sophomore floor, having moved on to another senior of hers. It's a good day, but something bugs him at the back of his mind the whole time, a buzzing warning that a disaster's bound to happen by dusk. So as soon as he has his lunch stuffed into his mouth, Sunoo sets about tracing down his steps, from the very entrance of the school. He tries to make it look as natural as possible.

Everything is as normal, until he drifts past the clubroom and spies a group of people, some he doesn't recognize, singing his favorite Paramore song.

His steps slow and he hovers by the door, telling himself that he'd stay till last note, _just_ the last note. Then he'd be gone before the kids can catch him snooping on them and mistake him for a scout from another band. Their school's holding a battle of the bands soon, and the kids in Belift get _really_ serious about it. For the people voting, it's merely one of the biggest festivals their school hosts annually, but for the participants, winning the competition by crowd favorite is life or death.

The door is barely ajar, so Sunoo has to angle himself to peek in and see who's singing.

There's Heeseung, the senior most known for his vocals and whose fame has spread to casting agencies who are all equally as desperate to sign him on. Another change in angle, and Sunoo sees the freshman Jungwon, too, and sandwiching him are Jay and Niki, the American and Japanese transfer students, with their guitars, plucking chords and going over the harder parts repeatedly. There are two other people in there donning uniforms that make it obvious they're recruits from another school. He can't really make out their features—one of them has got the printed lyrics held up to his face, and the other is pacing the room doing runs and trills to warm up his voice.

And the bad day theory comes true, because Sunoo is dumb enough to let his grip on the doorknob slip, accidentally turning it and because his body doesn't expect it, it propels him forward, crashing into the door as he flails towards the linoleum floor. He lands on his hands and knees, successfully shielding his face from impact, but clearly not his dignity.

"A _spy? The nerve of these people!"_

That's unmistakably Heeseung's voice.

He looks up and there's a hand that his mind just urges him to accept.

It takes the longest second to register that this isn't just any guy—it's the train seat guy, in the flesh, no longer a shadow in his brain.

There's a small smile hanging off of his lips. "We have got to stop meeting like this, Sunoo."

"Shut up, this is already embarrassing enough for me," Sunoo hisses, but he can't seem to stop smiling either. He's never liked his smile—something about it seems to killer-ish. But he's dead convinced that this is a good day, because he's finally found Park Sunghoon again. And his name on the boy's tongue sounds as pretty as it did the first time they met by chance.

"You two know each other?" Heeseung squawks as he hurriedly puts away all the scores on their desk. "You're a _traitor?"_

"I-I was just passing by and you guys sounded really good, so I decided to stay for a bit. At least till the end of the song..." he tries to explain, but the excessive hand gestures aren't exactly helping.

"Well. I'll have you know flattery gets you no where," the senior sniffs, though it's obvious that he liked the casual compliment.

"Look, I'll just leave, seeing as you guys are in the middle of practice." Sunoo shifts uncomfortably on both feet, unsure of what to do. He can't leave without being excused because it _feels_ weird and rude, and staying is just... out of the question.

"I'll go with you," Sunghoon quickly says, swinging an arm around his shoulder and throwing the rest of the band a peace sign. "I'm _starving_ and I need to get something into my system before Jake and I go back to school."

Jay turns back in his seat to stare at Heeseung. And what Jay does, Niki follows—it's quite a fact around the school that those two have been inseparable since they met in the month they both transferred to Korea. And Sunoo knows this _not_ because he indulges in student gossip (though it is quite the guilty pleasure), but because Jay's quite friendly when you get to know him, and he doesn't stop talking once he starts.

The freshman Jungwon drums his fingers against his copy of the lyrics and flashes their leader a hopeful look as well. "I mean... we haven't had lunch."

"Jake, you coming?" Sunghoon calls, and even if he didn't how, his voice is loud because _they'resoclosetogetherohmygod—_

The other boy in the same unfamiliar navy and silver uniform jumps up from his seat at the windowsill and jogs over to them. "Jake, nice to meet you," he introduces himself.

"I'm Sunoo," he returns shyly.

Jake, for reasons unknown, pats Sunghoon's cheek twice and laughs. "I like Sunoo a lot already."

Sunoo had thought he'd gotten the date all wrong, that it was actually a good day he'd mistaken would turn up an earthquake—all because he'd met Sunghoon a second time, and this exchange had allowed them to key each other's numbers into their phones and all seven of them bonded so well over lunch they started a group chat as soon as they got home, but...

He was right all along.

Life is but a series of consequences that lead you to the worst of endings.

To this day, Sunoo wonders if he'd never obsessed over preferring odd numbers to even ones, would they still have met?

**2nd of April, 2021**

Their dying group chat's notification chimes and Sunoo immediately pulls it up so he could check if there's an urgent message coming in.

Now that they aren't as tight-knit as they used to be, no one drops a text in the chat unless they're bearing bad news. Then, it's easier to reach out to everyone all at once. No need for personalized messages, _nothing._ Like, when Sunghoon was first hospitalized, a message of one line from Jake had read, ' _Sunghoon, St. Eve's, room 237. Come now'._

This time, it's from Heeseung, but it's nothing of utmost importance. Just a lackluster ' _happy belated april's fools'._ Jay's response comes in. It's a crude sticker of someone holding up the middle finger.

He entertains the idea of replying but drops it almost instantly. They're no longer friends and they shouldn't have to pretend they are.

Gazing up at the sky, Sunoo picks up his steps towards the looming brick-and-cement hospital ahead. The exterior of it is so clean and polished, it gives Sunoo the creeps. How is it possible that not even creeping vines grow on this thing? Or maybe they scrape them off before the sprouts even have a chance to grow? He chucks the thoughts out his head before he lets himself dwell on them for too long.

The route he takes that leads him to Sunghoon is easier today.

Thinking of things to say... that's what gets to him each time.

He'd timed his visit well today, just to make sure that Mrs. Park is already out of the picture. Speaking of pictures... in the plastic bag dangling from his fingers holds two sketchbooks and sticks of charcoals he'd gotten at the art supply store in his neighborhood. They're going to draw today, because that's what Sunghoon excels at above everything else—creating art, _breathing_ art. He's going to remind Sunghoon today that nothing can take that away from him.

And maybe it's got something to do with the fact that Sunghoon's the quietest when he's focused on making something perfect.

"You came today, too?"

That's the first thing Sunghoon says to him today. Sunoo hates how he's given the older boy another reason to be surprised.

"Yeah, it's Saturday after all."

"You should be studying—your grades need saving," Sunghoon quips light-heartedly.

" _You_ need saving," he blurts out before he can think about it twice. He feels like slamming his mouth into the corner of a hard surface to give him some _real_ reason to cry in pain.

"Nah," the older boy hums dismissively, "my condition isn't something that can be fixed with hours spent on reading boring passages. What do you have for me today?"

"We're going to draw." He lifts up the crinkling plastic bag and gives it a little shake, even if it feels lame and cringy. Sunoo pads over to Sunghoon in exactly three steps and sits down in his usual chair. He can't be sure if it's all just in his head, but it really does feel like even the chair isn't as uncomfortable to sit in today. "But it's going to mess up your nails pretty badly. It's charcoal."

Sunghoon peers into the bag as Sunoo holds it open, but it's just a quick peek, like he actually isn't interested in its contents at all. Sunoo thinks he might've made a mistake. "Okay, but wait! Before I forget, yesterday's movie suddenly has me thinking... what would be our 'Meet me in Montauk'?"

"What are you on?" he asks suspiciously. He's got a dreaded feeling mounting in his heart that tells him this is building up to an unpleasant place he doesn't want to go at the moment.

"I mean, like,"—Sunghoon waves his hands around like he's frustrated he doesn't know how to phrase himself—"what would be the one thing consistent in our relationship even after we've forgotten ever meeting each other? Like Joel and Clementine, they meet each other in Montauk, and there's the ice... they stay true to the most important parts of their first relationship when they meet again, even if there's, like, _zero_ memory of them doing all those things together."

"That's like asking someone if they'd use the same pick-up line that worked on their first partner, on their second partner," the younger boy answers lazily, but it gets the ball in his mind rolling too, but they're on a different wavelength entirely. Sunoo's thinking if it's right to recycle your lines, even if it's not against the law and it's a tried and tested, surefire way of hitting on someone... but _still._

"Yeah, but it's the same person, so technically it isn't morally wrong..."

Sunoo grins wolfishly. That's a weak argument coming from Sunghoon's end.

"It's not the same person. If we're talking about this hypothetical thing, I suppose nothing would be the same in our ' _second relationship'_ of sorts. We'd have changed, right? Everyone does, over time. The things we used to enjoy and find fun aren't even that interesting anymore. Look, the shit you'd say at sixteen isn't what you'd say at nineteen, and your understanding of certain concepts at nineteen would evolve and expand into another level of depth at twenty-two." He cringes at the number. At least the common difference is still three.

The space between his index finger and his thumb starts itching and he presses it to the still-hot surface of the electric kettle by Sunghoon's bed.

"No, but there's got to be _something_. Something that won't change. _Forever_. And don't you dare take this as me asking you out a second time, Kim Sunoo. One round of you is enough for me."

Sunoo smiles and rolls his eyes, taking out the sketchbooks and passing one to Sunghoon. "Hah, you wouldn't be able to pull me a second time, Park. _And_ , to answer your question, I'd like to think we have a little more originality in us than to stay sticking to the same old dating spots all the time, don't you think."

"Ah, Kim Sunoo... as sentimental as ever, aren't you."

Sunoo shrugs. "It's true, you know. Humans aren't puzzles. I don't know why people keep comparing themselves to puzzles like it's a good thing. It just reduces you to being someone who... who's incapable of change. You know? People don't complete each other and puzzles are, quite frankly, boring. They're pretty, that's how they ended up in frames, but they end up the same whether you take it apart from the top right corner piece first, or the bottom left. It's not the same with humans, see—every time we recover from being broken and taken apart, we grow and learn and that makes us different. We aren't puzzles because we don't end up the same pictures. A movie is just a movie after all. Nothing would be the same in our hypothetical second relationship if you hold it up to the first."

This gives Sunghoon something to contemplate and turn over in his pretty head, and it occupies his thoughts for quite some time. Sunoo restrains himself from adding on to what he's already said, and this is just such a _'them'_ thing to do. Sunghoon's always the more maudlin third, and Sunoo's the pragmatic one. The remaining uncharted territory is where they both meet in the middle, though lately, Sunoo has been questioning if their common ground had ever been large enough to take up a third of their little pie chart.

"Do you think I'd still be able to perceive colors? If we'd met further on down the road instead?"

The sticks of charcoal freeze in his hand, just as he's about to drop one into Sunghoon's outstretched palm. "That's hard to say."

It's his go-to answer whenever Sunghoon poses a problem he can't solve.

"You really never change, Kim Sunoo."

"Somehow that's always the final takeaway from every conversation we have. That's a compliment, by the way. I'll _take it_ as a compliment."

"A bit like a puzzle, don't you think? You end up in the same place no matter what." Sunghoon teases.

Sunoo mars his page with the first stroke of his charcoal. "Shut up."

_**1st of September, 2018** _

"I finally have you up in my room," Sunghoon smiles, and they pretend like it's some kind of scandalous happening even if the door is so wide open (Mrs. Park's doing, not them) that they might as well be in the living room with the rest of the Park household.

The whole gang had hung out together at Sunghoon's for the entirety of the afternoon, but somehow, Sunoo ends up being the only one who can stay still a little later. It's got something to do with his father's car breaking down again, and he's got to thank the old beaten up truck one day, because so far it's helped him end up with Sunghoon twice. Sunoo hates anything to do with the number still, but maybe a little less. It's all the wondrous illusion of distractions.

"What do you have for us?" Sunoo asks.

"Ah, crap, I was hoping you'd suggest something instead of asking me..." the older boy admits abashedly. He gestures to the TV across his bed. "Movie?"

Sunoo shrugs. "Depends on what you like watching."

"Action flicks." Sunghoon's face grows hot with the rush of blood into his cheeks and Sunoo finds it endearing. He scoots into place at the foot of Sunghoon's bed and pats the space on the carpeted floor next to him. "Or, like superheroes, crime-fighting films."

"I'm not too big of a fan of those, but I guess I like Iron man."

"Ah, I actually have all kinds of movies here." Sunghoon waddles over to the wooden box in the corner of his room collecting dust. "These are all the old DVDs my family used to play every Saturday. That is, till _Netflix_ happened. You could look through and see if there's anything in particular you want to watch." He drops onto his knees and pushes the box towards Sunoo as he inches closer.

The whole time Sunoo flips through the selection, he feels Sunghoon's breath heating up the base of his neck.

Just to be quick because he doesn't like hold-ups, he pulls out the next disc after _Kung-Fu Panda,_ and miraculously, he'd landed on a movie neither of them had seen before.

"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Huh." Sunoo turns the disc around in his hands to read the synopsis. "Well, it's got Jim Carrey. And Kate Winslet."

"No, _really?_ He scared me to bits in _'The Mask'."_

"Should we?" Sunoo asks, already popping the disc from its case.

That's the first time they watch it. And that's all the number of tries it takes for them to fall in love with it. It's the science part that got Sunoo hooked, and for Sunghoon, well... the film forced him to do a little soul-searching and turns out, he has a little soft spot for romance movies after all. They both cried like babies even though they'd tried hard to hold it in initially. Then—

Sunghoon, being Sunghoon, had asked Sunoo something stupid during the climax that neither of them remembered after because Sunoo got choked up while muttering a half-hearted answer and started bawling like a newborn before he got to the end of what he'd wanted to say.

"You know what's the best part about this movie?" Sunghoon asks after copious amounts of sandwiches that Mrs. Park had made them. The necks of their shirts are still wet from splashing their faces with water to reduce the bloating.

"What, the ending?" hiccups Sunoo.

"No. I mean, _yes_. But neither of them lost their colors, even when they were fighting and they broke up and things went badly. They aren't even soulmates but they just... they just keep finding each other."

"Or maybe they just never fell out of love in the first place, even in the worst parts of their relationship. That's crazy, isn't it?"

They're quiet for a while, _only for a bit (_ neither of them is quite capable of handling radio silence) before Sunghoon taps Sunoo on the shoulder. He'd gotten up on his bed somewhere in the middle of the movie, leaving Sunoo on the floor alone. So Sunoo turns back upon the cue to see what's up, only to be taken aback by how close they are.

"Truth or dare, Sunoo."

"What, so suddenly?" Sunoo scoffs at how out of the blue the question is.

"Quick, pick one," the older boy urges.

"I don't know... truth?"

Sunghoon punches a fist into the air and rejoices. " _Yes!_ I was hoping you'd pick truth."

"...And why is that?"

"Cause I wanna ask you, Sunoo, would you say yes if I asked you out?" Sunghoon asks, softly, slowly, so there's no way Sunoo can mistake his intention for something else.

His chest is a cage his heart is trying to escape. "What, right now?"

"Anytime." Sunghoon's mouth is a machine that doesn't miss a beat. So impulsive, always.

No, so brave.

Sunoo decides to try that for once, too. He closes his eyes and nods with a firm, "Yes. I'd say yes."

Sunghoon's feet abuse his pillows behind him, his whole body writhing with excitement. The happiness that echo endlessly in his eyes... Sunoo might've mistaken them for the galaxy on a darker night. "Truth or dare. _Again._ And pick dare this time, _please."_

"Why?" He flashes the boy a cheeky smile.

"So I can dare you to kiss me."

" _Hah._ But it doesn't work that way, Sunghoon. It's kind of my turn to ask you." Sunghoon rolls his eyes but he concedes and lets Sunoo have his turn first. "Sunghoon, truth or dare?"

" _Dare."_

"Okay. I dare you to kiss me."

Sunghoon's hands cup his cheeks and he happily obliges.

And it kind of becomes their routine, to play a round of Truth or Dare each them they finish sitting through a movie. Somewhere down the line, it starts feeling less like a tradition than it does a chore.

**3rd of April, 2021**

"You visit me too often. It makes me miss you less."

"Ah," Sunoo exhales, "this is what they mean when they say that generosity is never repaid in kind."

Sunghoon sits up in his bed, and it hurts Sunoo that it looks like the exact same picture he saw yesterday, and the day before that. He's free to go all these places, and it kind of feels like Sunghoon's stuck here against his will. He supposes it's true. "Sunoo the Generous—what a title for your martyrdom..."

"I know, it's got a ring to it, doesn't it?

"Seriously, sunshine, I'm not going to disappear if you stop dropping by every day and wasting time idling here."

"We never finished the drawings yesterday," Sunoo calmly navigates their exchange.

"Speak for yourself," Sunghoon grins, all his pearly whites on display, "I finished mine overnight."

Sunoo staggers back, hand to his heart. "I am _hurt._ My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is fucking ruined."

"I know that's taken from a meme, by the way..."

"Glad to know you're still keeping up with the times, grandpa." He plops down into his chair and flips open Sunghoon's sketchbook instead of his. Big mistake. Sunoo's eyes find Sunghoon's and his pupils are already shaking, his vision blurry with tears and spotted with black. _Why?_ he wants to scream. _Why, why?_

Dropping his gaze to the floor, Sunghoon lets his fists tighten around his covers. But it isn't like there's much strength he can channel to his hands anyway. "You know what I've noticed, Sunoo? Conversation between us is only ever easy when we don't wade in too deep. It's like those pools where there are warning signs plastered everywhere telling you to go away if you aren't adept at swimming yet. You're always..."

Sunghoon shakes his head, teeth grit, jaws clenched. "You're always pushing me away, like you're scared I might drown if I venture too far. _Why?"_

"I—" Sunoo rubs his finger till the charcoal comes off to stain it black. "I'm not a good person, Sunghoon."

"You are."

" _No,_ no I'm not. I'm ugly inside, and I don't deserve you, and you've already given so much up for me—do you really think it makes me feel good to see you lose more of yourself for my sake?"

"I don't care about the fucking colors, Sunoo," Sunghoon's voice is strained and stretched thin, so desperate to make Sunoo _see_ what he does. It's too bad he can't. "If I could, I'd do it all over again! I don't care how much it hurts, or-or what I lose, or anything else! It's you I want—"

"Well, does it look like you have me now? Does it? Even when you tried so hard, it wasn't enough to make me stay! And you have _no fucking clue_ , do you?" The chair clatters to the floor when he stands up. "You don't understand how I struggle to fall asleep every night trying to think of ways to try and love you again, if it means it'll make everything alright!"

_"Then stop trying!"_

They stare at each other like it's a still frame of a pretty pathetic movie. No one would watch a film like this, not when it's devoid of colors.

"We fell in love when we weren't trying," Sunghoon's voice wavers, weak from yelling. Sunoo's just surprised no one has come to get him yet. "And it's okay to stop loving me. Why do you keep- _keep_ thinking like I'm loving you and expecting something in return? I don't _need anything from you._ I just need—" There's another wave of petals pushing against his will to be expelled from his lungs. And Sunoo can tell because Sunghoon's trying too hard to not let it show. "I just need you. Without your walls, and your-your caution tapes and every barrier you're putting up against me."

"And what if even that is too much to ask?"

Radio silence. The kind they can't stand.

"Then I'll ask you to go."

Sunghoon says it like it's obvious.

Sunoo can't deny that it is.

"I've taken so much from you, why can't you understand that it's killing me that even if I stop trying and leave and decide not to see you forever, everything around me is still going to be a constant reminder that I'm still taking and taking _and taking—from_ _you!_ "

A little dribble of blood is leaking out the corner of Sunghoon's mouth, and his eyes are closed like he can't bear to watch the colors leeched out any longer. "I don't mind. It doesn't hurt me at all."

"But I do. I don't want to owe you anything."

_Because if I don't, I'll finally be able to leave this behind._

"Is it why you keep trying to find ways of returning colors to my world? Because it's not going to work."

Sunoo takes large strides towards Sunghoon, resisting the urge to grab him by the fucking collar and scream in his face till he gets every bit of rage out his system. They curl over his heart like flames from hell, and they're eating through everything he has, turning flesh to ash where they touch. "Then make it even," he grits, " _stop. Loving. Me."_

The older boy raises a defiant chin. "Did you try? When you fell out?"

_No._

It was the opposite. He'd gone through every trick in the book in a frenzied attempt at rekindling what they had before things took a turn for the worse. 

"That's what I thought, Sunoo. It's not something I can just turn on and off like a light."

He feels it rising. His self-restraint is a tiny boat rocking in the middle of sea, swallowed and dragged under by the wave that bends and contorts for seconds in the air like a warning that falls on deaf ears. In one breath, Sunoo lets himself blurt out the truth that he's been burying for so long, that bit of resentment that won't abate or ebb away however hard he seeks to extinguish. "This was all you, Sunghoon—you know that too. This whole mess we're neck-deep in? It's all your _fucking fault._ "

Honesty does lead you to happiness sometimes, but on the occasions it doesn't, all it brings you is pain.

This is just a remedial lesson—the first time he learned this was the very moment he told Sunghoon that he loved him.

**_5th of June, 2019_ **

One fine day, Sunghoon asks him, while they're sitting in the bath together and the water has gone cold—"Do you know how fucked up the Universe is?"

Sunoo plucks uncomfortably as his soaked-through shirt and makes a face. A soft chuckle falls from Sunghoon's lips and the shallow dimple he has appears like those little holes they drill through perfect seashells so you can string 'em up as souvenier. He's always finding amusement in the way Sunoo reacts to everyday things.

Sunghoon is nuts, he just knows it.

"You can't say that," he shushes his boyfriend.

"No, really, you've never thought about it?"

" _H_ _oonie,"_ he warns. "What if there _is_ a greater force somewhere out in the world? They'd hear you say shit like this and ruin your entire day, maybe your week or even your whole month."

"I thought you were a man of science," mutters the older boy, and Sunoo splashes him with a wave of water. " _Hey!"_

"I am, but just in case..." he tries to justify, but the words fall short and never make it out.

Sunghoon cups his hands around his mouth and, tilting his head towards the little square window in his bathroom, he yells, "The Universe is fucked up! Whoever you are up there, torturing us, is it funny to make us suffer?"

" _Hoon, what the hell?"_

"Think about it!" the older boy's eyes widen as he leans forward so that his knees are pressed to his chest. His hair is all wet, and there's a water droplet right on the mole on the side of his nose, and it's been two days since Sunghoon had taken the razor to his face, so little bits of uneven hair litter the area around his jaw. Sunoo keeps all these little details to himself, because it feels like a huge secret he has to keep to preserve the magic of the moment. "I feel like you're my soulmate."

"Sunghoon..."

"No, it's all hypothetical anyway—so hear me out. Give me a chance." He takes in a deep breath to contain his excitement and tries again. "I feel like you're my soulmate. And you know what's fucked up about it? That I'm dying to confirm this, but I can't. And the only way I'll ever know, is if you fall out of love with me... The moment the Universe sends the most _crushing_ of revelations to shatter my- _my purpose,_ my _world_ , is the very moment I'd have realized that you _are_ my soulmate."

That drop of water is sliding down Sunghoon's nose.

For some reason, his eyes just can't stay at the same spot for more than three seconds.

He loves Sunghoon a lot, but with how much he talks about soulmate connections, it plants a lot of doubts in Sunoo's heart—if he's ever going to be enough for a boy this good if that spot isn't technically his to take. "It is kind of messed up," he settles on saying.

"Would you rather find out? If that's the only way?"

Sunoo purses his lips. "That's hard to say..."

He just hopes he'll never have to make the choice.

_**17th of July, 2019** _

"It's almost been a year since we met."

Sunoo looks up from his spot on the living room floor. If he doesn't speak—if _neither_ of them speaks, they'd only hear the whirring of the fan above them, consistently picking at his nerves and making it feel like he's a breath away from a breakdown. He's been counting to three for the past hour to keep the disaster at bay.

"You're great for daily reminders, Park Sunghoon," he smiles weakly.

Sunghoon trails over to where he's been studying and makes himself comfortable across his boyfriend. There's lint on Sunghoon's shirt that has a shrill, piercing voice beseeching Sunoo to pluck it off. He reaches over the stacks of books on the coffee table, caving in to his urges. As Sunghoon puts on that look on his face again, Sunoo braces himself for the worst, all the while rolling the lint between his fingers, then pulling on his earlobe. His hands are always keeping themselves busy so that they don't find themselves traveling over every inch of Sunghoon's freckled skin.

"I've been thinking..."

"Stop thinking so much," Sunoo pleads. He drops the lint and instead, leans forward to smooth out the wrinkles Sunghoon's giving himself from overworking his brain.

" _You_ think too much, always studying wherever you are," Sunghoon retorts, and Sunoo pinches the bridge of his nose in retaliation.

"I'm learning, not thinking. Someone's done the thinking for us so many centuries ago, just so life can be a little easier and all we have to do is memorize."

"It's all the boring stuff that can be memorized! I'm talking about,"—Sunghoon pauses and sucks in his bottom lip to gnaw on. This is another habit of Sunghoon's—he can never quite finish his sentences because by the time he's halfway through them, another train crashes into the one he's boarding and he _just has to see it through_. He's always getting submerged and swamped in his own world, and somehow it's become Sunoo's job to snap him out of it.

"You were saying, Hoonie?" he drops, just as a slight reminder.

This startles Sunghoon, but he jolts back into the present and his smile fixed exhibit on his face. "That if we could reverse the time—"

"We can't."

"— _if!_ Imagine how insane that would be... I was just watching this video yesterday, where the first half of it is as we live and see things, and the second half has a plot of its own, but it's actually a _reverse_ of the first half. It's _genius_. Life has a story of its own if you could live in reverse. Not go back in time, because that's like, just a _zap_ and you're back there. Imagine if you're thinking of traveling back in time by a few seconds—it wouldn't just be closing your eyes, opening them, then reliving it all again."

Sunghoon marches two of his fingers across the table to substantiate his point. They waltz three steps forward and three steps back.

"If that's what time traveling entails and puts you through, how far would you want to reverse-walk back?"

Sunoo wants to call him crazy, wants to peck him on his moles, his dimples, and ask him to rest.

Instead, he tells Sunghoon, "I don't know, maybe the day we first met?"

"That's what I was thinking too! Cause you know..."

Sunghoon launches into his lengthy explanation on all the reasons why he'd walk back to that day. It blurs into background noise because all Sunoo can think about is:

_Do you know?_ He wants to ask, _do you know that it was exactly three steps I took before I bumped into you on the train? I know cause I'm always counting in my head._

_That's how I know it took me exactly three heartbeats to fall in love with you._ _Like this: one, two, thre—_

_**11th of November, 2019** _

It's cold, and it's only ever going to get colder.

Sunghoon can't stop counting down the days till he becomes an adult, officially. Even that day lies more than two years away...

Sunghoon's always looking into the future, always trying to beat time when it comes to getting to the finish line. It's a race he'll lose anyway, so Sunoo's not sure why the boy keeps trying. Today, while they're people-watching from the bench under their tree, Sunghoon keeps trying to guess what'll happen in the next moment.

"That girl right there? The one in the red padding and leggings? She's going to trip and fall and meet the love of her life today." Sunoo smiles, because that story seems strangely familiar. "The man there with the half-grown stubble and checkered scarf. The _huge_ one who looks like he's seven feet tall—he's going to stamp on some kid's Christmas present because he doesn't look down where he's walking..."

Sunghoon is always trying to live in the future he's looking forward to. And when he gets there, then what? He'd have forgotten he ever wanted to be there in the first place. Like a hummingbird, Sunghoon hops from branch to branch and sings his melodies, flashes his beautiful colors and entrances everyone around him, then he leaves. Sunoo's lucky to still be hanging on. He's like a little twig between the older boy's beak, always feeling like he's about to fall even if he knows that Sunghoon will come back for him regardless.

These days, Sunoo can't stop thinking about what's happened already. The past.

What a strange couple they make.

"The guy with the blue and yellow scarf..." Sunoo says, giggling already before he can get to the end of his prediction.

Sunghoon's eyes flit around, trying to locate the person Sunoo's talking about.

"The one next to his boyfriend—"

His mouth curls with understanding finally, his hand finding Sunoo's on the bench.

"—I feel like he might kiss his boyfriend in the next second."

Sunoo's prediction comes true, and the whole time they kiss, he just can't stop thinking: _damn, I've always wanted to say 'I love you' like this._

_**2nd of February, 2020** _

It's a bad day on top of it being in the worst year possible. Twenty-twenty is not only an _even_ number, but it's also indivisible by three. Slap a _2nd of February_ on top of that, and that makes it _four_ of those fucking twos. His hands have been itchy all day long.

Sunghoon's head is lolling forwards and back on Sunoo's numb arm, and even if he can't really feel his fingers anymore, Sunoo tries his best to keep still so that his boyfriend won't wake. He's eighteen, a senior, and on top of all the classes he has on the weekdays, he's taken up a part-time job to fill his remaining free hours on the weekends too. Their only dates happen in the older boy's car as they spend the one hour of Sunghoon's lunchtime together, giggling over sandwiches and co-worker gossip.

He smells like coffee now, and the spotlight on sharks and marine life in the little fun facts he drops on Sunoo ever so often has been stolen by coffee beans, too.

Night-times on Fridays are reserved solely for Sunoo as well. But he's usually so weighted with fatigue that he passes out before they can even get to the Truth or Dare section of their movie nights.

Sunoo's had this fear for a long time now, that he doesn't love Sunghoon as much as he used. They were _so young_ , and they'd rushed into this relationship too soon... And he's not sure which he fears more: the idea that he might be falling out of love with the only person he knows how to love, or that he's falling out of love and Sunghoon isn't losing his colors and they aren't soulmates after all.

But right now, it's clear that neither is the case.

Sunoo's heard of that story about the Chinese emperor and his male concubine before... the emperor had awoken to find his beloved concubine asleep on his arm, and because he couldn't bear to wake the sleeping boy up, he'd taken to slicing off the sleeve of his clothes instead. He feels like he might do that now if that were an option, but it's not, so Sunoo lets his arm get sucked into the feeling of nothingness while he watches Sunghoon dozing off, his heart swelling with love.

You know what's the strangest thing about this stupid thing—this _love?_

You love something long enough and you'll start feeling like you've lost a lot of it over the years. Truth is, you've just grown. Space got larger in your head, and your world has expanded beyond just pleasing and loving and watching your partner light up every streetlight with their smile. It isn't ' _not enough'_. It's just that it isn't ' _everything'_ anymore.

That's why no one's ever written a handbook on how to love someone the right amount.

There's no answer, not really...

_**8th of May, 2020** _

"If the _Lacuna existed—"_

"It doesn't."

" _But if it does."_

"For the love of god, Hoonie. Sleep. Please. You have an early shift tomorrow and you're on opening hours."

Sunoo wonders why Sunghoon thinks about wiping his memories so often.

He also wonders why Sunghoon doesn't push it anymore, just accepts what Sunoo gives him.

He's always hated how stubborn Sunghoon naturally is, but now that he's tamer, quieter... it makes Sunoo scared. He's always been scared of change.

_**31st of October, 2020** _

There's a lot of work that goes into missing someone. But the days are skipping by so quickly these days, it feels like trying to hold sand in his fucking hands and they just won't stay put. It didn't feel like this, you know. When they first started dating, minutes not spent next to Sunghoon felt like an eternity. Now hours just feel like hours, sometimes even just minutes. Sunoo sits himself down at his desk and flips a book open, then the next time he looks up, it's already been three hours.

He thought he'd had this figured out.

He's just grown, and that means more space, but lately, why has it been feeling like even with all this room, he still can't find a place to put Sunghoon?

It's Halloween today, and Sunghoon's working to get paid double.

Sunoo walks into the coffee shop and he orders his favorite drink from Sunghoon.

"Hi sunshine," Sunghoon says.

"Hey yourself."

"Can I get a name?"

"Are you flirting with me right now?"

Sunghoon smirks, holding his drink in one hand, sharpie in another. The cap is held between Sunghoon's teeth. "That depends. I get sulky if you don't flirt back, so all I'm asking is that you don't lead me on..."

"Hm. I have a boyfriend."

This is easy, so easy.

Well, everything is easy so long as you know how to steer clear of the warning signs and red flags, avoid your problems like they're the plague. Sunghoon gives him an exaggerated frown and passes the cup over to Sunoo, and in the place of his name sits a little setting sun. Or, the sun rising against the backdrop of his frappucino depending on how you look at it.

"He sounds very handsome already. Take care of his heart," Sunghoon bids him goodbye with a wink.

_**9th of December, 2020** _

They watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind for the nth time, and Sunoo doesn't cry.

Sunghoon goes first: "Truth or dare?"

He just sounds tired.

"Truth."

"Do you wish the _Lacuna_ existed?"

Sunoo shakes his head. "There's no one I want to erase from my mind, really..." He hears Sunghoon sigh and realizes that's his cue to ask, "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Would you still love me if you weren't convinced that I'm your soulmate?"

Sunghoon's mouth twists into an ugly frown. "But you _are_ my soulmate."

_**1st of February, 2021** _

12\. 21.

Three and a three.

In Sunoo's mind, this is what made him fell out of love, spiraling out and unraveling like a spool of ribbon sent rolling across the wooden floorboards. Here's how it goes:

"Truth or dare?" Sunghoon asks, and this time Sunoo's thoughts gather and converge into a white-hot ball of repressed frustration. It crackles around him like he has his own dark cloud of lightning and thunder. He'd wanted to be the one who asks first, this time. Time and time again, Sunghoon just keeps stealing that from him.

Sunghoon coughs—it's been worsening lately. He blames it on the weather, Sunoo thinks it's because he hangs around those workplace friends of his who smoke like there's no tomorrow.

"I want to ask you first, this time."

Sunghoon isn't as stubborn as before, but he's just haggard. He agrees to everything Sunoo says and he's stopped generating his shitty ' _what-ifs'_ that Sunoo never thought he'd miss. "Okay. I'll go with truth, then."

"Between the two of us, who would fall out of love first?"

The older boy doesn't need time to consider this, it seems, because he answers without missing a single beat. And when the answer reaches Sunoo's ears, it just sounds so... _defeated._ "You."

It hurts.

Sunoo wants to hurt him back in every way he can. "I pick truth too," he snaps curtly.

"If the _Lacuna_ existed,"—Sunghoon starts, and Sunoo rolls his eyes, the tears threatening to spill—"who would have the other erased from their mind first?"

Sunoo wants to hurt him _so fucking bad._

So he says, " _You."_

**Sunghoon**

**23rd of July, 2021**

Sunghoon doesn't think soulmates are what they seem. Or how they're depicted anyway. Or, or—maybe they are, but the reason behind their existence is beyond what their minds can comprehend. Sunoo's always been the ones with the explanations and the reasons behind why things are the way they _are_ , but...

According to science, or what research says, your soulmates complete you. Their job is to be your other half.

To Sunghoon, he thinks that soulmates are merely the existence of the people who're tasked with walking into your life to help you _find_ your other half. Your missing pieces don't live in some other person, just like how your happiness doesn't have to dangle on the precipice on your partner's almost-smile. They waltz into your life, shake you up, and hold you up to a mirror and show you the ugliest parts of yourself that you wouldn't have seen otherwise.

His hand brushes over the charcoal piece he'd done with Sunoo right before his eyes on April 2nd.

There's so much truth he has yet to tell Sunoo.

Sunghoon's selfish that way—but things are complicated and not so easily explained.

Sunoo thinks he started falling out the very moment Sunghoon tried to pin the blame on him. Sunghoon had _accused_ him of being capable of committing such cruelty first, but it wasn't just some wild guess that he pulled out the air at that moment.

November of 2020.

He'd been driving, and suddenly the colors of the traffic lights no longer look right. He stops using his car.

December of 2020.

The coughing starts. He lingers more around his smoking friends so he has a reason to write it off.

January of 2021.

A single petal on his chest when he wakes, and it's the dead of winter. He crushes it up and pretends it never happened.

February of 2021.

Sunoo asks him to deliver the truth. Sunghoon does as he's asked.

Sunoo had already long since fallen out of love with him, Sunghoon just doesn't know how to tell the boy. Maybe some time in the future—three, four, _five_ years down the road—they'd run into each other at the crosswalk and it'd have stopped hurting enough for them to talk. They'd laugh at how neither of them has changed, and Sunghoon would ask Sunoo if he's managed to keep all the colors in his world. They'd be forced to reassess where things went wrong, they'll cry and smile and bid each other goodbye—

But that's for the future to hold.

Today, Sunghoon lets himself delve into the past deeper than he's ever gone before. He traces his steps back and lives in reverse till he arrives four years ago _—exactly_ four.

Sunghoon has forgotten just how well he's always remembered this moment. Black hair turned honey in sunlight, fingers so loosely holding onto the straps. Sixteen-year-old Sunghoon's debating if he should warn this stranger about holding on a little tighter, that it might be a rough ride ahead. The train lurches.

_One, two, three._

**Author's Note:**

> hi! holy crap, this is literally my fav fic i've ever written. whenever i write something, all i want is to make my readers feel something so i hope that you guys can take away some parts of this story however you interpreted it! (also, this might be my fav fic because i have ocd too and it's very sad to see how many people misunderstand the disorder)
> 
> normally when i write, i make sure that all loose ends are tied up at the end, and all my characters get a definite ending but that's not the case for this fic. i wanted this fic to resemble life as much as possible, and that means that not everything is going to be perfect. some of the truth is going to stay buried, and while we all express a kind of want to divulge everything and let it all out, it's not like opportunities for that arise every other day. there's always the possibility of them reconciling in the future, but you don't see it. they don't, either
> 
> it's all in the future.
> 
> i thought about writing an epilogue for this to make it less bittersweet, but really, it might be perfect to leave it as it is now.
> 
> thank you so much for going on this journey with the two of them, and i love you all <3 stay safe, happy and healthy!
> 
> my twt is @ricecookerym and my curious cat is at https://curiouscat.qa/ricecookerym !!!!!!11
> 
> please give this fic lots of love, comments and kudos and i'll see you all at my next fic!


End file.
